The Painted Boy (34 page)

Cruz shook his head.

“Tell them that they really don’t want to get me pissed off.”

Jay turned to the proprietor who was taking it all in with a look of amazement.

“I’m sorry this happened,” Jay told him. “If I could compensate you, I would, but I don’t have any money. I can only assure you that it won’t happen again.”

His gaze returned to Cruz. “You’ve got as long as it takes you to reasonably walk to the bridge. Don’t make me come back for you. And don’t think I don’t know everything you’ve done. You don’t want to see me again.”

“Man, I need a doctor.”

“They’ve got hospitals on the other side of the river,” Jay told him.

And then he vanished.

“Mother of God,” the proprietor said.

Cruz looked at him and the man took a quick step back.

Cruz shook his head. Like he could do anything with two broken arms and that damned Chink on his ass whenever he turned around.

Cradling his arms against his chest as best he could, he went out the door. It didn’t matter how careful he was. Every step shot a fierce jolt of pain up each arm.

It was going to be a long walk.

 

 

“Trouble?” Abuelo asked when Jay reappeared.

Jay looked down at the broken bat in his hands. He remembered the sound Cruz’s bones had made as they snapped. He lifted his gaze to meet Abuelo’s. Shaking his head, he dropped the splintered wood and returned to Maria’s side.

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” he said.

He sat cross-legged beside the body and explained what had happened.

“It’s not going to end with that one kid,” Abuelo said.

“I know. But it’s what I have to do, right? I have to make the point until they get it and the people are safe. All the people—five-fingered beings and cousins. The land and everything on it.”

“It’s a big job.”

Jay nodded. His gaze drifted back to Maria’s features.

“If this were a story,” he said, “there’d be some way I could bring her back. I could go on a quest for a magic jewel, or go look for her in the underworld.”

“How do you know she’d even
want
to come back?” Abuelo asked.

Jay didn’t say anything for a long moment.

“I guess I don’t,” he finally said.

“See, that’s the thing,” Abuelo said. “Everybody’s got their own wheel. We can visit with them. Our stories can run together for a while. But the only wheel we can turn is our own.”

“So what do I do?” Jay asked.

“We lay her to rest and carry on.” Abuelo studied him for a moment before adding, “You’ve figured out how to talk to the elements now?”

Jay nodded again. “I guess being able to do that has a lot to do with the medicine I got from the desert.”

“I think it’s more a yellow dragon thing. But regardless, that means you can ask the stone to take her in. Her body will rest there, safe forever within its embrace.”

Jay put a hand on Maria’s cold brow.

“No,” he said. “If we’re going to bury her, I’ll do it with my own hands.”

 

 

Hours later Jay and Abuelo stood at the edge of the plateau, looking out at the mountains. Behind them, a stone cairn rose high over Maria’s body.

“We should have said something over her body,” Jay said. “Before we covered it.”

“She’s not here to hear you.”

“But still . . .”

“Yeah, I know. Letting go is hard.”

Jay fell silent again.

“I have to get back,” Jay said after a while. “Are you sure you won’t come? I could really use some guidance.”

Abuelo shook his head. “Remember what I told you. If I go, it’ll all fall to crap. That’s just the way it is.”

“But . . .”

“You don’t have to be alone when you go back,” Abuelo said.

“Who’d want to know me?” Jay said.

He wasn’t being melodramatic. Maybe things were going to work out now in the southside barrios, but too many people had been hurt in the process. Maybe he had the same curse hanging over him that Abuelo thought hung over his own head. The problem was, Jay didn’t have the option of bowing out the way Abuelo had.

He stepped out of
el entre
before Abuelo could respond.

The dark-haired man continued to look out over the mountains.

“Who?” he said. “Lots of people.”

-
9
-

 

 

 

IT TOOK ABOUT
a week before the
bandas
finally got the message and cleared out of the barrios south of the San Pedro: Barrio Histórico. East Pueblo. Solona. South Presidio. All of them.

The lesson Cruz was forced to learn hadn’t been passed on to his fellow
bandas
because he never saw them again. The gangbanger ditched his colors, crossed the San Pedro, and found a clinic where fake medical insurance papers held up long enough for him to get treatment. With casts on both arms, he caught a bus to LA and never returned.

It didn’t matter. Wherever the
bandas
went about their business, Jay appeared and reminded them of his rules.

At a drug deal, he walked out of the shadows, destroyed the drugs with dragonfire and took the money, which he later passed on to victims of the gangbangers, playing the part of “the generous bandit” Malverde. He broke no more
bandas
bones, but he did personally walk them to the bridge and sent them north of the river with a strong wind at their back to keep them moving.

At a carjacking, he appeared in the backseat of the stolen Ford Taurus as the gangbangers were about to take off. He knocked their heads together, then reached forward and snatched the keys from the ignition. He vanished for a moment—stepping into
el entre
, then back out again—only to reappear on the street outside the car. When the
bandas
tried to get him, a strong wind blew them up against the adobe wall of a nearby grocery store and held them there while Jay explained their banishment. Then they, too, were walked across the Camino Presidio Bridge.

At a confrontation between members of the Kings and the Southside Posse, both sides were subdued and sent packing.

Any gang member who wore colors had them removed. Shirts and jackets were incinerated by dragonfire that never touched their skin. Scarves were snatched by the wind.

They didn’t always see Jay, but his presence was felt from one end of his territory to the other. It didn’t matter if the incident was large or small. Any deviation from his rules saw immediate reprisal and usually banishment. Anyone who tried to return would find Jay waiting for them. Jay, or cousins like the crow boys who had taken to helping out where they could.

By the second week, the residents of the barrios could safely walk the streets. Their children could play in front of their houses without fear of a drive-by or the influence of the gangs. The shadow of the
bandas
no longer hung over them.

 

 

At nine o’clock on a Thursday night, Rosalie followed the last customers in La Maravilla to the door and locked it behind them.

“What are you doing?” Tío asked, coming out of the kitchen. “It’s too early to close.”

Rosalie sat down on a chair and shook her head.

“I’m too tired to work anymore,” she said. “I still have my homework to do after we finish up in here and I don’t think I’ve seen Ramon for more than a few minutes in over a week. You need to hire someone else, Tío. We can’t go on like this.”

“He’ll be back. He’s just seeing to the barrio.”

Rosalie didn’t have to ask who he meant. Tío firmly believed that Jay would return to them. Rosalie didn’t. She remembered how he’d looked at her, standing there with Maria’s body in his arms. And even if he wasn’t mad at them, he was busy.

The stories went through the streets in whispers, how something—no, some
one
—was clearing out the gangbangers. They talked about it at school, in the stores, while filling their gas tanks, wherever the residents came together.

“He won’t be back,” Rosalie said. “I told you what Lupita said. These days he’s like the big boss of the southside barrios. Why would he still come to work here?”

Every night was busy now, but tonight had been particularly hard. Paco was off sick, so not only did Rosalie and Ines have to wait on customers, they also had to bus the tables and take turns washing dishes. Tío didn’t know it, but the only reason there were no customers at the moment was because at eight thirty, Rosalie had slipped out and put a CLOSED sign in the window.

“She’s right, Papá,” Ines said. “We have no life.”

“I don’t want him to think we’ve just forgotten him,” Tío said. “I want him to know he can come back.”

Rosalie wasn’t sure if Tío actually understood what Jay had become. He hadn’t been at El Conquistador that morning. But even people who
had
been there didn’t seem to retain what they’d seen. Rosalie had overheard kids at school talking about the great free Malo Malo gig, but there’d been no mention of a man turning into a panther, or dozens of motorcycles and cars falling to pieces.

She didn’t know what had happened to El Tigre’s body, but she had been there helping pack up the band’s gear when a couple of trucks arrived and a gang of black-haired young men loaded up all the scrap metal into the back of them. She supposed they’d been cousins.

The peace in the southside barrios had even made the city news, but no one came forth to explain why.

“He’s not going to come back,” Rosalie said.

“But if he did . . .”

“You can give him a free meal,” Ines said, “and tell him that you’ve hired someone new. For God’s sake. It’s not like he’s the only cook available.”

Ines didn’t have a clue, but she had a point.

“We’ll give it another couple of days,” Tío said. “Whatever else he might be, he’s also just a boy on his own.”

“Papá, the weekend’s coming. We can’t
do
this on our own.”

But Rosalie could see that his mind was made up. He turned and walked into the kitchen, and they soon heard the angry rattle of pots and pans. Rosalie reconsidered. Maybe Tío
did
understand what Jay had become and what he was doing. And he was probably right about being left on his own. But she didn’t see how they could do anything about it.

“If he weren’t my father,” Ines said, “I would so quit on him right now.”

Rosalie nodded. “Paco should be back tomorrow and maybe Anna or Ramon will lend us a hand.”

Lupita had told Rosalie about the trailer in Solona that she shared. After work, Rosalie got Anna to drive her over. A beautiful girl with chestnut hair and large brown eyes answered the door. When Rosalie explained who they’d come to see, she called back into the trailer for Lupita.

“I kind of thought you’d be showing up sooner or later,” Lupita said. “I expected it might have been sooner, but . . .” She shrugged.

“I was just trying to do what you said,” Rosalie told her, “and respect his privacy.”

“But now . . .”

“Oh, it’s just my uncle. He’s driving us crazy. He expects Jay to show up back at the restaurant any moment like nothing’s changed. I know that’s not going to happen, but I was hoping maybe Jay would go by and tell Tío himself.”

“I don’t think that’s very likely,” Lupita said.

“Have you seen Jay?” Anna asked.

Lupita hesitated a moment, then nodded. Rosalie caught the glint of moisture in the jackalope girl’s eyes.

“What happened?” she asked. “Is he okay?”

“It depends,” Lupita said. “For the barrios, for the people as a whole and the land we all live on, yes. Everything’s fine. But for those of us who knew and cared for him . . .” She shook her head. “He’s changed. He’s all cold and dark now. He sees only his job, which he does very well.”

Anna nodded. “Yeah, we hear the stories. The gangs are finished here.”

“But he doesn’t want any kind of personal relationship with anyone,” Lupita went on.

Rosalie tried to replace the friendly, happy Jay she remembered with the one Lupita was describing, but she couldn’t do it.

“Do you know where he is?” Rosalie asked.

“Seeing him won’t do any good. He knows everything that goes on and if he doesn’t want to see you, you won’t find him. I only talked to him once, but it was like meeting a stranger. Everything that made him Jay is gone. There’s only the dragon left.”

“I thought they were one and the same,” Anna said.

“They are. But you know how you have a different face for the different people in your life? Like there’s your school face, and your band face, and the one your friends see? It’s all you, but they’re still different?”

Both girls nodded.